Lewi's Legacy (20 page)

Within a year of her mother’s suicide, her father had moved to a tiny cottage deep in the forest near a village called Hordle. The Bungalow had been sold and he had made sure that the proceeds were shared equally between himself and his daughter. The Guarneri violin had been auctioned at Bonham’s in New York and had reached eight hundred thousand dollars, and they shared that too. Somehow Louis had done his best to make up for his selfish attitude, knowing that he could never make up for causing the tragedy to Esther. But at least his beloved daughter would not want for anything in her life, or at least would have the ability to choose.

Leah looked exhausted after all that detail but was glad that she had told the story. Victor rang for a bottle of Bollinger Grande Crut and they shared the champagne together.

‘So then Leah, where do you think your father is now?’ Victor asked.

‘I assume that he has the artefacts that were stolen from his ancestor, as he didn’t take anything not belonging to him. Lewi had mentioned that there was a hidden treasure inside one of them. I can only assume that he has got that, but what did he do with the original items? I think, knowing him that he got them back to your Russians, somehow.’

19
Discovery

Stag at bay

Louis was confident that he had left no trace of detection at the warehouse, and paid cash for the rental of the lockup, and the rental car. He actually paid double rental for the car, which helped when they had asked for identification as he told them he hadn’t got any. He was also relying on the fact that the Russians were not likely to report the robbery to the police.

When he worked at the Amsterdam Museum archives, after many years of searching the huge number of Nazi lists, and just before his work was abruptly cut short by the death of his wife, he had stumbled upon a small list of ten items stolen by the Germans with the reference of ‘Levi – shop in Rue des Oiseaux, Marais, Paris’. There was no time to copy the list, so he took it from the museum. Finding the list was hard enough, but finding the actual items was nothing short of a miracle.

A week had passed and he was standing inside the lockup at around ten in the evening. It was dark but he had a good flashlight. The week before, he had put the artefacts in order, mostly paintings but there were other items too; a ceramic bust and a bronze. Louis stood for a while before he checked each number on the list, every one of them was there. For another moment he just stood holding each of the paintings, just the way he imagined his great grandfather would have done in his little shop in Rue des Oiseaux. He had bridged the gap of more than sixty years, as if the group of artefacts was a time machine.

He had to decide, and quickly where to start to look for the hidden treasure. Would he take all the paintings apart? He thought about Lewi again, what would he do? Louis picked up the small bronze; it depicted ‘The Stag at bay’. It was obviously a copy, but quite an accomplished one, so with his torch he looked more closely. One of the stag’s front legs was bent sharply at the knee, and as he traced the leg up towards the body. The sculptor, having taken account of the bending, had caused the skin where the front leg joined to its body to fold. Holding on to the bent leg with one hand and putting his flashlight under his chin he held the body with the other hand. Slowly but with some force he twisted the leg. Suddenly the leg moved away from the body. As he twisted further, he could see the machining appear between the leg and the body. He turned the sculpture upside down and screwed the leg off with a few more turns.

He placed the separated leg in his pocket and looked at the small cavity that remained in the trunk. It was quite beautifully machined and he shone the torch into the little hole. There was some blue raffia paper lining the bottom of the cavity, only about an inch deep, so he poked at the paper with a ball point pen, and it easily gave way, allowing him to hook the contents out. Louis opened one of the folds of the paper and it revealed a ring of sorts with a blue stone mounting. He quickly folded the paper back and slipped the little parcel into his inside pocket which was conveniently zipped.

He then carefully replaced the stag’s front leg to its body taking care not to force it. The statue had been cleaned so there was no point in adding any dirt to the join, but the folds in the skin were good enough to hide any screw mark to the untrained eye. Louis did not intend to search any further, and he carefully placed the little bronze on the ground. Throughout the operation, he wore thin plastic surgeon style gloves keeping them on after he had secured the lock-up. He walked down a couple of side streets towards a bus stop and then he popped the disposable gloves into a public waste bin.

It had been nearly two weeks since the ‘robbery’, and each day he diligently scoured the Paris papers for any ‘lost and found’ items in the classified sections, especially with box number addresses. He hit the jackpot with Le Monde; he spotted an advert which read ‘Valuable artefacts taken from warehouse in Paris 10.000Euro reward on recovery. Apply box number A152’. That particular classified ad appeared on four consecutive days in the same newspaper.

Back at his hotel he took a quick look at the ring again, and it was indeed a beauty, but he didn’t look too closely, as he had other things to do before he left Paris. So he replaced it into his zipped pocket, and then planned his final act.

The next day he purchased an A5 manila self sealable envelope and wrote on a single white sheet of paper: ‘Artefacts for Box number A152 are to be found at this address’. He wrote the lock-up address code at the bottom of the note, and then popped the message and the lockup keys in the envelope. He finally headed the envelope ‘Le Monde, Blvd August –Blanqui, Box no. A152’ He packed his small belongings together and checked out of his hotel, which just happened to be three blocks away. The reception of the newspaper was easy to find through the large glass doors of the seven story building designed like a giant wedge on the corner of two busy streets. The receptionist took the envelope and thanked him. He asked for Louis’s name, and he answered saying that the box number owner will get everything he needs inside the envelope, please deliver to the box number and none other. He then turned and headed out into the street. Just after he had left the building he saw a city bus headed ‘Gare de l’Est’ and got on it.

The TGV to Strasbourg was comfortable and fast and he noted that he would be in the city of Alsace in just less than two and a half hours. He rang Ethan to ask if he could pick him up at the station in Strasbourg, but was told he was out for the day. Leah came to the phone and said she would meet him at the station. Louis was overjoyed, as she was the person he wanted to see anyway. He spent the first part of the train journey assessing the traceability of his actions in Paris, particularly any clues left at the warehouse or the lock-up. He hoped that the owners would retrieve the whole amount of the items, and he hoped that without having to cough up any reward, it would remove any need to carry on with their search. Louis was aware that if they did continue to pursue him, the connection to Leah-May might just be a lead for them, but he sincerely hoped not.

The second half of the journey was spent looking out of the train, and imagining how his great grandfather Lewi must have travelled in the same direction, on foot. He saw him running in the same fields trying to avoid the patrols, begging or stealing food to keep alive, and knowing what the consequences would have been if he was caught. He was filled with admiration for the man’s fortitude, a hero among a million heroes, refugees trying to escape the vicious mindless tyranny that was Nazi Germany.

The TGV pulled smoothly into Strasbourg. He alighted from the train onto a deserted platform and his heart sank. Did she know which train to meet? He hadn’t told her. He trudged along the platform feeling a little dejected. There was no sign of her. He noticed a trackside café flashing a red beer sign and he was tempted to go in to get his head together. As he walked towards the door, it flew open and there she was.

‘I came here early Louis, yours was the third train to arrive, and thank goodness you are here.’ She hugged him gratefully and he returned the hug in relief. ‘Your message seemed a bit cloak and dagger, has something happened to you Louis?’ she asked.

‘Can we go back to your home Leah? I have something to show you that only one other person in this world has seen, for at least sixty years.’ Suddenly Louis felt and looked very tired, and Leah took his bag and put her other arm through his as they went on the escalator heading for the street. To any outsider they probably looked like brother and sister, instead of aunt and great nephew. The two members of the great Hebrew tribe of Levi sat arm in arm in the back of the Mercedes limousine, the same one that he had driven to them from Southampton all those years ago. The same butler Roger was in the driving seat, and Louis noticed that there was a hint of grey in the hair protruding below his hat.

They approached the tall iron gates that bore the name of Khan on them both, and they slowly opened. Roger then drove the car through the familiar jungle-bordered drive. The car pulled up outside the marble portico that was the entrance to their mansion. Louis was the first to step out of the car, and as he stood up straight, he breathed in the heavily scented air surrounding the huge house. He just had to give her another hug. ‘I just love being here Leah.’ His eyes were glinting, full of tears.

She answered him in Hebrew. ‘We love to welcome you to our house, blood of my blood.’ Louis had never understood the Hebrew tongue, but he knew there was no need for interpretation. As she opened one of the massive front doors she asked, ‘is what you have to show me in your case Louis?’ He answered with a smile and gently tapped his coat breast pocket. Roger the butler had called ahead and told the staff to arrange some food for his passengers. As Louis and Leah entered the dining room, a sumptuous banquet fit for King Solomon was laid out before them. Louis was completely bowled over with. As they ate their fill he could not hide his surprise that Leah did not ask about his treasure, she just held her tongue so pleased to see him enjoying his food.

She led him out of the room and headed for her private study. He looked back for a moment to see the silent servant clearing away. He picked up his jacket, opened the breast pocket and pulled out the small envelope and dropped the jacket on the back of a chair. Roger had followed them into the study. He picked up Louis’s coat and backed out of the room closing the door. The study was light and airy, with two rows of books that covered a whole wall, and the whole ambiance was one of peaceful quietness. Louis passed her the small sealed envelope, on which, for effect, he had signed over the seal: ‘Lewi Levi’. Leah looked at the seal and smiled at him as she gently prised it open, and the little blue parcel fell out of the envelope into her hand.

‘Just remember that the wrapping paper you are holding was last touched by your father all those years ago,’ Louis said as a caution. Gently she unfolded the delicate blue paper and examined the fine ring that was nestling there. Firstly, on the inside of the band of white metal, it was distinctly hall marked, and on each side of the hallmark was a tiny inscription too small to read with the naked eye. She turned the band around and looked at the jewelled mounting. As she brought it closer to her eyes Leah gave out a resounding sigh and placed her other hand over her heart in amazement.

Louis came up close to share the sight. It was a jeweller’s triumph. At the centre of the mounting sat a large modestly cut sapphire, basically round in shape. Two rows of three identically cut diamonds formed outer lines into an elliptical shape like an eye. The closest line of diamonds to the sapphire were black, the middle lines were of white diamonds and the outer lines of pink diamonds. Neither Leah nor Louis had any experience in jewellery however, for the uniqueness alone they knew they were in the presence of a craftsman’s masterpiece.

Leah spent some time, just looking at the ring, letting the light play on the centre blue sapphire which seemed to change colour as she moved it. She imagined what her father Lewi must have thought as he looked at the same ring over sixty years before. Then having to leave it in his little shop in Rue des Ouiseau in Paris, not knowing if he would live long enough to let anyone know where it was. Leah finally replaced the ring in the wrapping paper and envelope and locked into the floor safe. Ethan was expected home very late, and she told Louis that he would see it in the morning.

Louis was awoken by one of the maids, who told him that the master would like to see him when he was ready. Ethan greeted Louis with a huge hug that took his breath away for a moment. The ring was lying on the table on top of the blue raffia paper. Louis asked Ethan if he could get the ring checked out without too much fuss, if he knew what he meant. Ethan as ever, knew what Louis meant, having said that he knew one of the leading jewellers in the world who would visit him at the house if invited. That would keep everything secret.

‘I can imagine, Louis, what it has cost you to finally uncover Lewi’s secret treasure, and we shall keep that secret in the family.’ Ethan said.

Much to the disappointment of his hosts, Louis told them that he could not stay, and would have to leave the next day. He asked if Roger could take him to the station, and that he would explain everything to them on his next visit. The journey to the station was weird; Louis had the feeling that they were being followed, and he let Roger know his fear.

‘Leave this to me sir. Just hold on to your hat.’ Instead of taking the road to the station, he turned sharply out of town and sped into the country. ‘I am going to drive to Nancy; you can get the train to Paris from there. He put his foot down and must have been driving at over one hundred miles an hour. About half way to Nancy he stopped in a lay-by and waited. Two trucks went by, but nothing suspicious, so they went on. Louis shook Roger’s hand as he left the limousine at Nancy station, and watched him drive away. He felt much better as he boarded the train to Paris. From the TGV, right at the last moment, he transferred to Gare de Lyon deciding at the last minute, to visit his father, whom he realised was advancing in years. He had heard little from him for quite some time.